


Battle Buddies

by SnakeMilk



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, An AU that's in space, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Forgive me i'm still learning, Idiots in Love, M/M, Military Training, Sort of soul mates?, Space War, Wilderness Survival, but in a different universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakeMilk/pseuds/SnakeMilk
Summary: In a universe where the galaxy is plunged into war after a century of peace, Obi-Wan and Cody, two genetically modified men designed to be together, must strive to survive. After being drafted into the Jedi forces, the pair need to learn how to act in battle, as well as around each other. They don't quite get along at first, but soon enough they will, right? After all, they were born to.An AU where there's a space war between the Separatists and the Democracy, Cody wants to go home and Obi-Wan just wants some tea. It's sort of a soulmate AU, except it's like a... war soulmate? Idk you just gotta trust me.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still really new to writing. The pacing may be way too fast, and if it is please let me know. I'm learning! Anyway, I love the Cody and Obi-Wan pairing! Didn’t know it was a thing until a month or two ago, so I’m thrilled. As I have it planned, this chapter and the next are mainly world-building. After that we’ll get to the ~relationship~ Hope you enjoy!

Obi-Wan offloaded from the ship at dusk with a swarm of other people, walking down the cold steel ramp that led to the metal grate flooring of the landing platform. Dozens of other bodies all lingering at the bottom of the ship, waiting for some direction from their superiors. Eventually, they were corralled down a long hall and split into groups to tour the new Jedi facilities. 

Obi-Wan stayed in the back of his group, eyeing the numerous faces of all the other newly-branded Jedi sitting in the cafeteria they were passing through, half listening to what the leader of their little unit was saying. It was strange, this whole situation. He never thought he’d be called back to the military, especially not solely because of his Battle Buddy biology. That was something he, and the nearly the rest of the human population, had thought of as obsolete close to twelve years ago. Apparently not, though. They had been recalled (or maybe drafted was a better word) for service mere weeks ago. All registered humans with the Battle Buddy disposition were to undergo training in preparation for a war they all had seen coming, but had hoped would stay cold. 

The Separatists had done what all of them hoped they wouldn’t: they made a move. More than just some stolen land or a radical believer shouting in the streets. They had announced that they, the Separatists (as they called themselves) organized their own government, an oligarchy, and were prepared to overthrow the Democracy of the Realms. Such a bold move wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it was surely unwelcome. The Democracy had dissolved much of its military after nearly a century of relative peace, depending on their smaller delegated peace keeping forces to manage what few troubles cropped up over the years. They had taken a relatively pacifist approach, as the Democracy’s main goal was universal peace, literally. Unfortunately, though, there were smaller, radical pods that believed in the methods of a government long passed. Eventually the believers learned that if they banded together, they would be much more effective at pushing their agenda. They wanted more militarization, the end of the Democracy, and to revive the ways of the old Federation to an even more extreme point. 

Over the years, their forces had only gotten stronger, which culminated in what Obi-Wan was experiencing right now: Standing in some gods-forsaken depressing metal building, surrounded by other ex-academy students, hearing some droning bullshit about how their eating hours were at such and such, and lights out was at so and so. He closed his eyes tightly, and took a deep breath. There was nothing he could do about this now. The Democracy of the Realms had voted for this. Now he was simply a cog in the new machine, and he couldn’t change fate. Best he could do is hang on for the ride and try his best to recall the skills he had learned what seemed like a whole lifetime ago. 

When the tour was over, they were given maps of the facilities, assigned their quarters, and given some bare essentials to keep them alive and hygienic during the weeks to come. Obi-Wan made his way through the windowless, labyrinth-like metal halls that lead to the barrack section of the building. Each pair of Battle Buddies was given their own dorm, which he had thought was quite generous for the circumstances. Then again, the government likely had some money to spare due to the demilitarization of the modern worlds. Less mouths to feed and less weapons to manufacture meant more money in the Democracy’s pocket. When he finally found the door with the number printed at the top of his paper and looked up, backpack slung over his shoulder and muscles aching from the ship flight where he was crammed in with a hundred other people, all he could feel was relief. But then again- no. Now he was worried. He wasn’t informed if his Battle Buddy was here yet. They had been cycling in people for over a week now, and would continue until the facility reached an “acceptable” occupancy. Could they be inside this very room right now? This person he was supposedly genetically paired with? An individual who was supposedly his perfect match for the battlefield with a personality and wit that would complement his own, that’s what they were all taught. Born for. He took a deep breath, straightened out his posture, and punched in the door code he was given before he could second-guess himself. He knocked twice, then slid the door open. Carefully genial smile upon his face, Obi-Wan looked around the room to see if anyone was currently in the quarters. 

He was a bit surprised at the fact that the dorm seemed totally untouched, not a soul to be seen. The bunk pushed up against the right side of the room was neat, a simple plastic mattress with a thin, folded blanket and small pillow sat upon both beds. There was a card table in the middle of the compact room with two plastic folding chairs on either side, cupboards for storage, a coffee maker and a small mini fridge. Obi-Wan took back what he said about the government having money. Apparently they couldn’t even afford real furniture. Nice. He let his shoulders sag again as his smile slipped off his face. The exhaustion from his travels and the taxing of his mind was beginning to weigh heavily on him again, and he started towards the beds. He threw his backpack at the foot of the lower bunk bed and laid himself across the cold, artificial smelling plastic mattress. He didn’t even bother with the damned blanket, instead he just flung his elbow across his eyes and decided to at least try and get some shut-eye before he started his training tomorrow. A part of him was disappointed that his Battle Buddy wasn’t here already. As a young kid, he was excited to meet his Buddy. Someone who wouldn’t betray him, someone who he could serve the Democracy with, side by side, as best friends. There was still a piece of that child in him, one that yearned to fulfill his purpose. The bigger part of him, though, wanted to get some fucking sleep. He’d meet them eventually. 

Hours later, he was startled out of his sleep by the loud bang of the metal sliding door being pushed unnecessarily hard over the tracks and slamming hard into the wall it nestled into when opened. Obi-Wan sat up, still not quite grasping where he was or what was happening, and proceeded to smash the top of his head against the floor of the top bunk that was apparently not quite accommodating enough to fit him when sitting upright. He rubbed his head, suppressing a small hiss from the dull pain, and opened his eyes which were still bleary from sleep. Blinking a few times and finally adjusting his eyes to the light, he saw a figure standing in the threshold of the dorm. A man wearing a black tee shirt and sweats stood there, his own backpack slung around one shoulder. He had his dark hair cut in some sort of military style, if Obi-Wan had to guess, common to a planet foreign to his own. Longer and curlier on top, shaved on the sides. A scar curled down his face, making him look a little intimidating. This wasn’t helped by the fact that he was looking down at Obi-Wan with a deep frown, eyes showing no emotion. He didn’t realize that he was being rude by staring for so long until the man started moving toward the bunk. Obi-Wan straightened himself out as much as he could in the small space, expecting to shake hands and introduce himself to his Battle Buddy. Instead, though, the man started climbing up the metal ladder that led to the top bunk. As his legs disappeared over the top rung and out of Obi-Wan’s eyesight, he blurted out an embarrassing “I’m Obi-Wan!” No response. He opened his mouth again, “Pleased to meet you…” he trailed off, cuing the other man to introduce himself as well. He waited, but no reply came. Fuck, maybe his Battle Buddy wasn’t a talker. That’s fine, he told himself. He hoped by all little gods that he hadn’t already offended him within the first minute of meeting. 

Obi-Wan lowered his head back to the pillow, and closed his eyes, mind racing. He hoped his Buddy didn’t hate him, it would make their work together quite hard to do. He wanted to be friends with the guy, he really did. He’s sure that the man would have some interesting stories to tell, like the one about where he got his scar, or maybe- “Cody.” A disembodied voice from above him said, quiet enough to not startle Obi-Wan, but loud enough to let him know he wouldn’t repeat himself. 

He sort of understood now. This guy definitely wasn’t a talker, and he might really have something against Obi-Wan, but most of all it seemed this guy just had some issues. That’s okay. They’ll learn to get along, he reassured himself. For now, he’d try to make this man named Cody more comfortable, which meant less talking and more space. He gave a “Hm.” in response as a way of giving Cody acknowledgement that he had heard him. It was quiet for the rest of the night. They’d get along. They had to.


	2. Cody's Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m actually having a lot of fun writing this. I decided to not have any expectations for the story (like meeting a certain word or chapter count), and to just enjoy the ride. Thank you so much to everyone who’s reading, I feel so grateful that each of you takes time out of your day to check this silly fic out. Enjoy! (Side Note: In this AU there are no non-human species. Xenos are my absolute fave but I wanted to make this story full human!) Also, this should be the last chapter focused on world-building and history. Enjoy!

When Kote had gotten the message on his comm, he thought it was a mistake. He wanted, from the very depths of his heart, to believe it was a mistake. But there it was, “Kote Fett, Age 23, Mandalore, You are hereby ordered for induction into the Jedi Forces of the Democracy of the Realms, and to report at…” He closed his eyes tight, wishing to wake up from this fucking nightmare. He knew though, that his past had somehow reared its ugly head and come back to bite him. His parents’ stupid mistake was haunting him. Now he was being drafted into a war he wanted nothing to do with. He was not a Battle Buddy. He was Kote, a mechanic, a normal guy who had his whole future before him, as lonely as it appeared to be. Just- just trying to fucking survive and enjoy some cheap instant noodles while sitting on the floor of his small apartment, watching a cheesy holodrama.

When Kote’s parents were alive, they were utterly penniless. They slept where they could most nights, sometimes fortunate enough to crash on a friend’s couch, other nights they weren’t so lucky and they were forced to sleep on the streets. So it’s no wonder that when they were approached by two men in suits who offered them a deal of a lifetime, they couldn’t say no. In exchange for a very hefty sum of money, they would be injected with a genetic modifier that would affect any children they would have, and they would give said children to the Democracy to become trained Battle Buddies. His parents had no thoughts of keeping a child, another mouth to feed, another body to clothe, so it was an easy agreement. But, years later, when his mother had finally conceived, they had realized their decision was a mistake. His mother and father had begged the doctor, who had just reported Kote’s birth to the Officials, to let them keep their child. They had made a mistake, his parents had said. They would give back all the money they had if they could keep him. By now they had more stable jobs, they could care for him, keep him. Apparently, the doctor had a kind heart, and agreed reluctantly to “accidentally” edit Kote’s report to portray him as a stillborn, so long as they kept him a secret. The records of his blood and fingerprints had already been submitted, and could not be withdrawn. If they kept him a secret and never let the government of Mandalore know he was alive, they wouldn’t have Kote taken away. The doctor even refused payment, simply maintaining that his parents needed to make sure no one ever discovered who he was. If the truth were to be exposed, he would lose his job and be stripped of his licenses. 

All had gone well, until his mandatory military service. Every able-bodied person on Mandalore had to do it. He had tried to evade it, he really did. Up until this point, he had avoided anyone learning his true identity as a genetic Battle Buddy. He had refrained from getting piloting certifications, been home schooled, and had few friends. But when he opened the door one day to reveal several men dressed in Mandalorian military uniforms, he knew he had fucked up. They were making rounds to ensure they had enlisted all Mandalorians his age. There was no getting out of it, when they forced him to give his prints. He expected to be sent off right at that moment, destined for some hellish Battle Buddy academy, forced to partner with some fucking stranger he was apparently meant to live with, fight with, and die with. He didn’t want it. No, that was his greatest fear. But after the military men had fiddled with their datapads for a while , they simply handed him a bundle of papers and told him to appear for his mandatory service in a month.

His parents had told him not to go, that it was a trap, that they should just pack up and leave. Kote couldn’t do that to them, though. Although they had done this to him, modified their own son to be a pawn for the government, he had accepted that what they did was a mistake they regretted. They deserved to live their life. He was old enough now, at eighteen. He couldn’t get away from it this time.

So you can imagine his surprise when he showed up to the military offices and was simply enlisted for mandatory duty. And from that day on, his time of being in service was normal. Two years of standard training, learning battle techniques deeply rooted in Mandalorian tradition, and that was it. No tricks, no dangerous looking Democracy officials coming to collect him and throw him into the gods forsaken academy. He and his parents had figured that somehow, blessedly, the files they had on him were either thrown away or expunged. They had all counted all their lucky stars.

They had died a year later. But Kote didn’t want to reflect on that.

So today, when he showed up to the draft “office” (which was really just a pitched tent with some stuck-up looking officials sitting in the shade of the canvas, which was stood near the military offices he had first reported to years earlier), he was half-hoping for the good news that he wasn’t actually on their list of Battle Buddies. That it was a mistake. But of course it wasn’t. The Democracy didn’t make mistakes. The officials had drawn his blood, and confirmed his worst fear. He was on their list of genetically modified soldiers. He had begged them to rethink it, to let him go. He hadn’t even trained at a Battle Buddy academy, for hell’s sake!

“It’s not our decision to make,” one of the officials shrugged, sorting through papers on the table they sat before. He turned his eyes up to meet Kote’s. “Besides, Mandalorians are a special case. You’re all given military training. Right now, the Democracy needs all the people they can get. Most of the Battle Buddies are getting too old to see action, and we don’t have any other military in the core worlds, so…” He trailed off, and looked back down to the contents before him.

“But I was never paired with anyone! A modified soldier is useless without their Buddy.” Kote said, growing desperate now.

The official didn't even bother looking up this time, simply responding, “Yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been drafted.”

And that was that.

He had, however, discovered why he was never picked up by the Democracy when he was discovered by the Mandalorian officers. The draft workers had told him that by the time he was found out, the Battle Buddies were already dissolved and released from duty. They simply had no use for him. But now they did. Kote didn’t even know when they had officially dissolved. The life and inner workings of the academies and the Battle Buddies themselves were a widely kept secret.

Kote hated this. Hated being forced into a war he had nothing to do with. He didn’t even believe that somehow, he was born to match someone else. After all, the Federation, and the Democracy that rose after the Federation fell, didn’t exactly explain themselves. Their system worked, it wasn’t questioned. In the beginning, Battle Buddies were designed to somehow complement each other. Two humans fine-tuned to understand each other, to excel in battle. They only matched them in pairs in order to prevent an uprising; that, he knew. As decades passed, Battle Buddies went from valiant, feared fighting machines to peacekeepers. They were trained as elite soldiers, but their skills became less and less useful. This was due to a decrease in unrest and crime. Eventually, as nearly a hundred years had passed and the Federation fell, giving way to the Democracy of the Realms, Battle Buddies became obsolete, and then apparently they had stopped altogether when he was around eleven years old, silently and covertly. 

Now, though, he was screwed. He was due to leave for some damned training facility in five days’ time. The Battle Buddies were being inducted again, to fight for the preservation of democracy under a new name: Jedi. Soldiers of justice. Bullshit. All of this was bullshit. He would not allow himself to be indoctrinated by their disgusting views, the cradle snatchers that they were, and he absolutely would not make “best friends” with some random person with whom he was forced to genetically pair with. They couldn’t force his future on him. He would grit his teeth and fight, yes, but he wasn’t going to change his views. He would serve his time and get the hells out of there. 

Fuck the Battle Buddies. What a stupid name, anyway.


End file.
